Stunned
by ZebraZebra
Summary: In Harry’s third year, Remus and Sirius confront Peter in the Shrieking Shack. They stun him before taking him to the castle. Things work out differently for Remus, Sirius, and Harry.
1. The Shrieking Shack

**Stunned**

**Summary: In Harry's third year, Remus and Sirius confront Peter in the Shrieking Shack. They stun him before taking him to the castle. Things work out differently for Remus, Sirius, and Harry. Eventual R/S slash. **

**Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. I own nothing. In particular, parts of this first chapter are quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. **

**Spoilers: The first five books, although it leaves cannon at the end of the third.**

Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

"You should have realized," Lupin said quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and turned to the wall.

"NO!" Harry yelled. He ran forward, placing himself in front of Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," he said breathlessly. "You can't."

Black and Lupin both looked staggered.

"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Black snarled. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die, too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know," Harry panted. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the dementors. . . He can go to Azkaban . . . but don't kill him."

"Harry!" gasped Pettigrew, and he flung himself around Harry's knees. "You—thank you—it's more than I deserve—thank you—"

"Get off of me," Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands off him in disgust. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because—I don't reckon my dad would've wanted them to become killers—just for you."

No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Black and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry," said Black. "But think . . . think what he did . . . ."

"He can go to Azkaban," Harry repeated. "If anyone deserves that place, he does . . . ."

Pettigrew was still wheezing behind him.

"Very well," said Lupin. "Stand aside, Harry."

Harry hesitated.

"I'm going to tie him up," said Lupin. "That's all, I swear."

Harry stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Lupin's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"But if you transform, Peter," growled Black, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew, too, "we _will_ kill you. You agree, Harry?"

Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him.

Lupin, though, shook his head. "I think we should stun him as well. Professor Snape is still unconscious and Ron's leg is barely going to support his own weight." Again, Lupin looked to Harry as if asking his consent.

"Will it hurt him?" Harry asked.

"No more than you've hurt Professor Snape." Hermione whimpered softly. The tiniest ghost of a smile twitched Lupin's still-bloodless lips. "Perhaps the three of you would like to stun him yourselves."

Ron, too, suddenly found amusement in the situation. "Yeah, Hermione, you could put him in a body-bind. You've been doing that for ages, just ask Neville about the end of first year!"

"That—that was an emergency," defended Hermione half-shrilly.

"Whereas this is perfectly normal," grumbled Ron mockingly.

Harry met Lupin's eyes. "Go on, then," he agreed.

Lupin raised his wand once more and Pettigrew went rigid, then slumped in his bonds. Businesslike, Lupin bound Ron's broken leg and checked Snape's pulse. Then, with Snape's prone form floating eerily in front of Black and Pettigrew's doing the same in front of Lupin, all five started down the stairs toward the tunnel.

Getting through the tunnel was slow work. The steadiest member of the party was Crookshanks, who led the way with his bottlebrush tail held high.

"You know what this means?" Black said abruptly to Harry as they made their slow progress along the tunnel. "Turning Pettigrew in?"

"You're free," said Harry.

"Yes . . ." said Black. "But I'm also—I don't know if anyone ever told you—I'm your godfather."

"Yeah, I knew that," said Harry.

"Well . . . . your parents appointed me your guardian," said Black stiffly. "If anything happened to them . . ."

Harry waited. Did Black mean what he thought he meant?

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," said Black. "But . . . well . . . think about it. Once my name's cleared, if you wanted a . . . a different home . . . ."

Some sort of explosion took place in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"What—live with you?" he asked, accidentally cracking his head on a bit of rock protruding from the ceiling. "Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," said Black quickly. "I understand, I just thought I'd—"

"Are you insane?" said Harry, his voice easily as croaky as Black's. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?"

Black turned right around to look at him; Snape's head was scraping the ceiling but Black didn't seem to care.

"You want to?" he said. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it!" said Harry.

Black's gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger was shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognizable as the man who had laughed at Harry's parents' wedding.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first; he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot in the trunk, because Lupin, with Pettigrew, clambered upward without any sound of savaging branches.

Black saw Snape up through the hole, then stood back for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to pass. At last, all of them were out.

The moon was just beginning to rise in the dark sky.

Black froze. He flung one arm out to push Harry, Ron, and Hermione back. Harry could just see Lupin's silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake.

"Oh, my," Hermione gasped. "He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!"

"Run," Black whispered. "Run. Now."

But Harry couldn't run. He was sure that if he took his eyes off Pettigrew, he would vanish, or transform, and Harry's chance of leaving the Dursleys would be lost forever.

"Leave it to me—RUN!"

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin's head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshanks' hair was on end again, he was backing away—

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from Harry's side. He had transformed. The enormous, bearlike dog bounded forward. The dog seized the wolf about the neck and pulled it backward. They were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other. There was a howl and a rumbling growl; Harry turned to see the werewolf taking flight. It was galloping into the forest.

Black was bleeding; there were gashes across his muzzle and back.

"Watch Pettigrew!" Harry snapped at Ron and Hermione. He turned his attention to Black. "Are you all right?" his voice wobbled. "Of course you're not, you've been fighting with a werewolf—"

Black responded by returning to his human form. "Nothing I haven't done before." He rubbed his hand across his face and grimaced at the blood he saw there. "Obviously I'm a bit out of practice." He looked at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the two figures floating in midair. "Good thing Remus thought to stun him." He nodded at Pettigrew. "Unexpected complication. Now, let's get you back to the castle. Can't have you out here with dementors and werewolves about."

Once more, he pointed Snape's wand at its owner and drifted him toward the castle. "Do you know the spell you need?" he asked the other three.

Hermione nodded resolutely. "Mobilicorpus," she said, pointing her own wand at Pettigrew. He followed Snape up the grassy slope toward the castle.

Harry allowed his gaze to drift from the prisoner just once more, as they passed Hagrid's hut. It was dark and quiet; Hargrid must have worn himself out mourning Buckbeak. Harry swallowed hard. It was difficult to feel so many things at once. It seemed wrong to be so very happy when he knew Hagrid was so very sad. And Buckbeak . . . Buckbeak had never done anything wrong.

They had nearly reached the doors of the castle when a too-familiar chill swept over them.

"No," whispered Black.

"Not now," muttered Ron.

Dementors—and more than just a few—were heading towards them. "They must have gotten all excited by Buckbeak's execution!" snarled Hermione.

Black pulled his wand away from Snape and pointed it at the dementors. "Expecto patronum," he said shakily, but there was no effect.

"Expecto patronum," echoed another voice, and even through the ringing and screaming in his ears Harry knew it was Snape. He had regained consciousness. Snape's Patronus was fuzzy, indistinct. Harry wondered if perhaps Lupin had been wrong, and they had done him permanent harm by disarming him quite so enthusiastically. Snape was a fully-grown wizard and should surely have been able to produce a real Patronus.

Still, the feeble protection Snape was able to provide gave Harry enough clarity to know what he needed to do. He stole a glance at Sirius. _He's my godfather_, he thought. _My parents' best friend. He never betrayed them. I'm going to leave the Dursleys._

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellowed.

The jet of light that shot from his wand was not fuzzy or indistinct as it charged the dementors. At first it looked as if it might be a horse, then a unicorn, but then it turned its head.

It was a stag.

The dementors retreated, and the stag cantered back toward Harry. He raised one hand to pat it as it faded and vanished.

"_Prongs_," whispered Black in something like awe.

Black's voice seemed to trigger Snape further from his stupor. He reached for his wand, but Black still had that, and before Snape could grab for Ron's wand, Black had stunned him again.

"We'd better go in," said Ron.

Truer words had never been spoken.

Luckily, Ron remembered that the castle doors had been taught to recognize Black, so he and Harry entered first. In the confusion of the two unconscious men plus Harry, Ron, and Hermione darting back and forth, Black was able to slip past the protections and into the castle.

Harry had last been in Dumbledore's office midway through his second year, when several students had been Petrified and Harry had looked like the guilty party. Ron's sister Ginny had nearly died before anyone discovered that Lord Voldemort had been using a diary to control her and Petrify other students.

"Lemon drop," he told the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. That had been the password at the time, but apparently it had changed. "Chocolate frog," Harry guessed. "Pepper Imp. Sugar quill. Chocoball—"

This last was apparently correct, because the wall split in two and revealed a moving spiral staircase. Harry felt a surge of pride in Hermione's abilities as she maneuvered Pettigrew up through the spiral with real skill. When all at reached the top, Harry rapped at the door.

"Who is it?" asked Dumbledore. He sounded weary.

It was Black who answered.

"It's the mad mass murderer Sirius Black, and he's come to turn himself in."

The door opened.

Dumbledore looked as weary as he had sounded, but as he observed the strange scene before him, his energy seemed to return.

"I thought it was you," he told Black. His eyes probed Black's as if trying to read his mind. "Why now?"

"I'm ready to be caught," said Black simply. "I'm happy to be caught as long as my supposed victim" here he pointed a long, thin finger at Pettigrew, who was just beginning to rouse "can't cause any more damage."

Dumbledore's keen gaze swept from Pettigrew to Snape and back again.

"Oh, my apologies about your Potions Master," Black added. Harry strongly suspected that he was not sorry at all. "He got in my way, and I was forced to stun him. But that's all I did."

In one movement, Dumbledore placed a strange kind of restraining field around Pettigrew and revived Snape.

Snape's head shot up so quickly it was almost comical. "Headmaster," he said quickly. "Don't listen to a word he says. He's Confunded the children—they attacked me—"

Hermione looked as if she might faint. Dumbledore raised his hand. "What do you know about Peter Pettigrew?" He gestured at Pettigrew's small, restrained form.

"This—how is that possible? This must be a trick. Black and Lupin have been back to their schoolboy tricks all year, this is some kind of an illusion! You know as well as I do that they've tried to kill me before, at the age of sixteen."

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus. Tell me only what happened tonight."

Snape cast one last disparaging glance around the room. "Lupin, as unable to deal with his—_condition_ responsibly as always, could not be bothered to take his potion tonight." Black growled like the dog he had recently been, but Dumbledore silenced him.

Snape continued. "When I arrived at the werewolf's office, I found a map lying open on his desk. The map showed Lupin disappearing along the path to the Shrieking Shack. His old hideout. I followed him and found him with Black and these children, explaining that when he was in school his dear friends—Potter and Pettigrew and of course Black—decided to become unregistered Animagi so they would not be in danger from him during the full moon. They didn't want to be kept from causing trouble even one night a month. When I revealed myself, the children attacked me—"

"Only after you tied Lupin up and said you'd get dementors to kiss him!" spat Ron angrily.

"Do not speak to your professor that way," Snape spat back.

"I would have to agree, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore agreed. "Perhaps you and Mr. Potter and Miss Granger should go to the hospital wing now."

Harry froze. He did not want to leave so quickly. He wanted, no, _needed_, to see the end of this.

"We're sorry. We—we'll be very quiet from now on," said Hermione hesitantly.

"We will," Harry agreed quickly.

"Yeah, we will," added Ron.

"Very well, then. Severus, continue."

"When I regained consciousness, we were close to the castle wall. There were a hundred dementors closing in on us. I tried to perform a Patronus Charm, of course, but I was not able to focus under the circumstances. When the dementors retreated, Black stunned me again."

"What caused the dementors to retreat?"

"I don't know."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all tried hard not to explain.

"Convenient Snape forgot that bit," Harry whispered out of the corner of his mouth when he was sure that neither Dumbledore nor Snape was looking at him. Both Ron and Hermione swallowed their laughter.

"Sirius?" Dumbledore turned to Black. Harry could see the skeletal man's pulse pounding beneath his waxy skin. "Are you an unregistered animagus?"

"Yes," agreed Black.

"Demonstrate."

Black did.

"Return to your usual form."

Again, Black obeyed.

"Did you kill Peter Pettigrew?"

Black glared at Pettigrew, still suspended in a kind of magical box. "No, but I would like to."

"Were you the Secret-Keeper for James and Lily Potter twelve years ago?"

"No," croaked Black. He managed to stumble through the same explanation he had given in the Shrieking Shack.

As he finished, another knock sounded at the door. "Come in, Minerva," Dumbledore called with a flick of his wand. Professor McGonagall entered. Her beady eyes widened as she took in the scene. "Please take Harry, Ron, Hermione and Professor Snape to the hospital wing," Dumbledore ordered.

"I assure you, I am _quite_ capable of walking to the hospital wing by myself," interrupted Snape.

"You've been stunned and hit on the head, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "I value you too much to take risks. I wish to speak to Sirius and . . . Mr. Pettigrew alone. You and Minerva may return when Nurse Pomfrey deems it fit. The students had better spend the night there. Mr. Weasley's leg looks as if it could do with Poppy's touch."

Professor McGonagall made to usher them out, but Harry stopped again. "You won't let the dementors have Sirius, will you?"

"The dementors will not be coming any closer to the castle."

"Will Sirius be staying _in_ the castle?" Harry pushed, even though Hermione hissed "_Harry_!" under her breath.

Dumbledore, though, chuckled, and Harry fancied that Black looked a pit pleased beneath his heavy mask of grief. "Sirius will stay here until this has been sorted out. I believe that enough innocents have been punished tonight, don't you?"

Harry nodded tightly. He followed Professor McGonagall out of Dumbledore's office. As the door closed behind him, he just saw Black stand up and Dumbledore point his wand directly at Black's heart.

**To be continued.**


	2. Long Night

**Stunned: Long Night **

**Summary: In Harry's third year, Remus and Sirius confront Peter in the Shrieking Shack. They stun him before taking him to the castle. Things work out differently for Remus, Sirius, and Harry. Eventual R/S slash. **

**Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. I own nothing. **

**Spoilers: The first five books, although it leaves cannon at the end of the third.**

Sirius felt an irrational surge of laughter building in his throat. But then, he had laughed when Peter had managed to murder James and frame Sirius for the crime. He had laughed when James had dragged Snape out of the Whomping Willow before Remus did his worst. He had laughed when he had been hit in the face by a Bludger at the age of nine and his blood had soaked not only his own clothing but that of James and Regulus.

Why shouldn't he laugh when, after escaping Azkaban, Snape, Peter, and a hoard of dementors, he found the most powerful wizard in the world pointing a wand at his heart?

"I have to do this, Sirius," Dumbledore told him in what Sirius would have liked to consider a soothing tone of voice. He had long since lost the ability to differentiate subtleties in tone and body language. "I promised Harry I would see this sorted out, and I promise you the same. But I can't risk you transforming."

A wave of magic flashed over Sirius, and he staggered backwards into a chair. Instinctively, he tried to become Padfoot and found that he could not.

"Are you able to change your form?"

Sirius tried again, then shook his head. "No," he croaked. His last defense was gone.

Dumbledore reached for a small, round object on his desk. Almost instantly, two house-elves appeared. "What is Headmaster Dumbledore wanting, Sir?" squeaked one happily.

"Breakfast, please, and a set of robes for our friend." He gestured at Sirius.

"Is Sirius Black!" shrieked the other elf in fear.

"He will not harm you. Please do as I ask," said Dumbledore. The fearful elf vanished as suddenly as he had come, and the other elf stood at attention, overly large ears and eyes trained on Dumbledore. "Take him to the bath. Help him with anything he needs."

"Yes, Sir!" One section of the round office swung backwards, and Sirius found himself directed toward it.

In all the occasions he had been sent to Dumbledore's office as a student (and there had been many, many, many, _many_ occasions), Sirius had never seen the wall open. Had his long-deprived senses not been overwhelmed, he might have been very pleased to see what the rest of the Headmaster's rooms looked like. As it was, he numbly allowed the elf to tug at his filthy prisoner's robes and fill the tub with bubbly water.

The robes fell to the floor with a puff of dust. Sirius coughed, and in an instant a glass of juice was at his lips. The juice felt more powerful than he himself was as it slid down his throat and into his stomach, which lurched in response.

He had been bathed by an elf as a small child, he knew, and then he and Regulus had delighted in splashing each other until the elf had snapped her fingers and kept them restrained at opposite sides of the tub. Now he felt those same restraints holding him still as an enchanted sponge slid over his body. The water blackened quickly, and the elf snapped her fingers to clear it.

"Does Mister Black want his beard shaved, Sir?"

Sirius stared at the elf. He knew that she had spoken, but he could not make sense of her words. His skin was raw except where it burned from Harry's and Remus' touches. He could hear snatches of Peter's voice, and while he wanted to listen his body seemed to be shutting down.

There was a crack, and most of Sirius' beard vanished along with most of his long hair. "Is fleas," the elf said, and Sirius did not really understand that, either. A comb whipped through his suddenly-clean, suddenly-short hair, and a towel draped itself about his shoulders.

As he stood, Sirius caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He knew that the reflection had to be his own; he was alone in the room with the house elf, and only Dumbledore and Peter were around the corner. The reflection's limbs were skeletal and shook as water dripped off of them. His cheeks were hollow and his stomach concave; his ribs were pronounced. Not one stand of muscle crossed his form.

The elf pulled a robe, soft, black, and non-descript across Sirius' body. Sirius hardly paid attention. He had found something on which he could focus, and that was food.

It appeared to be eggs and fruit, but that hardly mattered. He did not have to scavenge for it. He reached for the plate and ate it as quickly as he could. Force of habit led him to eat what he could, when he could, before it vanished.

"Only as much as you can handle, Sirius." Dumbledore was beside him again, his voice soft. "You will have more later. Your body has had enough of a shock."

Sirius nodded, not so much because Dumbledore's words made any more sense than the elf's as because some part of his body knew instinctively that that was the appropriate response.

"Lie down." The command was simple and abrupt, and that Sirius understood, although he had no idea how he had some to stand before a bed.

He buried his face in the pillow, and suddenly a thousand thoughts crowded his mind.

"Go to sleep."

His eyes sprang open and his breath quickened. He could not remember the last time he had slept as a human. It had not been in the past decade. Once more, he tried to transform and found himself blocked by the spell Dumbledore had placed on him.

Harry was screaming that Sirius had killed his parents, and then agreeing to live with Sirius, and Petunia Evans was standing on Platform 9 ¾ with an expression on her face that confirmed she would never be kind to her sister's son, and James was there because they were twenty years in the past and Sirius had not killed him through his own hubris and had not failed to protect the only grandchild of the people who had been parents to him when his own parents had refused, and Remus was asking if Sirius had thought him the spy because they were back in their own time where Dumbledore was telling him to sleep and there were more voices outside.

Sirius sat up. Snape had returned, and with him Minerva McGonagall. There was a third voice, too, but he had to see its source before he recognized it as belonging to Poppy Pomfrey. "Do what you can for him," Dumbledore commanded the nurse, and then he commanded Sirius, again, to lie still.

Sirius twisted on the bed to stare at the nurse. Something in her eyes was most unprofessional, but not at all unkind. "What happened to the other boy?"

"Other boy?" she repeated.

"The other boy. Ron," Sirius remembered. "What about his leg?"

"His leg will be as good as new by the time the moon sets." Her eyes bore into his for a moment longer, and then she seemed to come to grips with herself. "Close your eyes so I can mend the cuts on your face." Sirius obeyed. "Lie on your stomach." Reluctantly, Sirius obeyed once more. Cuts sealed themselves, bruises vanished, and muscles relaxed, only to tense again as he felt the nurse's wand and fingers on his spine. "Sit up. Drink these."

"What are they?"

"Pepper-up potion and a potion to fight a bacterial infection." As long as he had been following instructions for what seemed like hours, and what might actually have been hours, he drank the potions. "Now, try to sleep."

They kept coming back to that one. Sirius did not care to obey, but he did not have the energy to argue. Instead, he stayed still and tried to listen to the others.

McGonagall's voice was easy to pick out. Many years of controlling her students had given her the ability to make herself heard in the next room even when she spoke softly. "Let me see him, Albus."

"I don't know if you want to, Minerva." That was Pomfrey.

"I know quite well what I want." Her voice, like the nurse's, was rather choked. If Sirius had not known better, he would have thought her greatly upset, nearly to the point of losing control. Professor-slash-Deputy-Headmistress-slash-Head-of-Gryffindor McGonagall did not lose control, even if she had always thought his jokes funny as she gave him detention for them. "What's the matter with him?"

"He's in markedly good shape for having lived like an animal in the forest for a year after twelve years of torture. The cuts and the bruises and the cracked ribs heal quickly enough. I don't know the extent of the damage from the infections or the starvation. I don't know how the potions will affect him. The psychological damage . . . twelve years with the dementors! He wasn't much more than a teenager when he was sent to Azkaban. It's a wonder he's as lucid as he is."

"And you're quite certain that he is innocent, Albus?" McGonagall continued.

"He can't have murdered Peter Pettigrew if Peter Pettigrew isn't dead," Dumbledore sighed. "I attempted to probe Sirius' mind. His thoughts are so convoluted that I was unable to confirm that he was telling the truth. Peter's story was much clearer. He confirmed that he cut off his own finger and cast the spell that destroyed the street. He confirmed that he sold James and Lily to Voldemort."

"When are you planning to involve the Ministry?" Snape. Sirius gnashed his teeth.

"Tomorrow. I want to hear what Remus has to say first."

"May I point out that he has proven himself untrustworthy, as I always told you he would?"

"He did not help Sirius break into the castle," McGonagall was quick to defend.

"He never mentioned that Black is an Animagus. He never mentioned the passageways into the castle, knowing that Black knew about them. He is right now placing anyone who makes the mistake of being outside in danger of becoming what he is."

"All errors in judgment," Dumbledore agreed, and without warning Sirius felt his body begin to shake. Remus was going to be hurt and he, Sirius, was going to be at fault. He had seen Remus once in over a decade and in that time he had probably gotten Remus sacked from what he suspected was the only job Remus had ever really wanted. He thought of the lines on Remus' face, and the gray streaks in his hair. He thought of his own reflection. He and Remus had both aged more than they should have.

"Errors in judgment which you will never mention to him?"

"Errors in judgment which I will discuss with him. I need to know as much as possible about what went on tonight and thirteen years ago before the Ministry becomes involved. I would hope to have both Sirius and Peter tried before the full Wizengamot with the Daily Prophet and Wizarding Radio present. The facts need to overwhelm the biases of the Ministry completely. I find it frightening that a hippogriff was beheaded tonight on the testimony of one boy."

"Not just any boy."

"Do you believe that Cornelius Fudge will be eager to announce publicly that the wrong man was imprisoned so many years ago, and that he was sent to prison without so much as a trial? Sirius was not the only one convicted without being allowed to speak on his own behalf. Cornelius will be terrified by the potential public reaction. Sirius is facing greater hurdles than the son of a powerful man who bears a grudge."

"Black will find a way out of it. He always did, even when he was a child." Snape's voice was so full of loathing that his words were difficult to make out.

Dumbledore's eyes pierced Snape's. "Severus, are you going to be able to help me? This is a difficult situation. You cannot allow yourself to be blinded by your hatred of Sirius and Remus."

"The hatred is justified."

"But not worth sending the innocent to Azkaban. Or is it?"

"No, Headmaster."

"Good. Perhaps you will get something you like out of this, after all. An Order of Merlin, perhaps, for aiding in the capture of Peter Pettigrew?"

Snape's eyes danced again over the imprisoned man. "You're quite certain it is he?"

"Quite."

There was a tense pause. "What do you need me to do?"

"For now, I need you only to see to your students, as you always do. But not a word of this to anyone."

"Of course not." Snape swept from the room.

"Poppy, I know you want to return to your other patients. Have you any further instructions as regard Sirius?"

"I'll see him again tomorrow-- later today. I'll see how the potions affected him then. You already know to let him eat small amounts frequently, rather than whatever he likes whenever he likes. He needs so much that until I've had more time I can't know what to give him first."

"You may only have a day or two."

"I'll do my best." She cast one more fearful, furtive glance in Sirius' direction, and caught McGonagall's sympathetic eye before she left.

"Minerva." Dumbledore now addressed the last of his confidants. "I want you to stay here. Do not let anyone in. Do not remove the spells around Peter. He needs to remain in condition to confess. As for Sirius . . . ."

"I had seven years' experience dealing with Sirius Black," said McGonagall. She tried to make her tone light. She failed miserably.

"It was a lifetime ago. For him, certainly. Let him rest, if he will. I do not have him restrained, but if you find it necessary--"

"I won't, I'm sure."

Something in the far reaches of Sirius' mind told him that he ought to have found that amusing. Although he did not remember clearly, and although he was overwhelmed with a numbing exhaustion, he knew that once upon a time Minerva McGonagall had occasionally been inclined to agree with Argus Filch when he suggested that restraints were the only way to deal with Sirius and James.

James, again. His head grew heavier still. He no longer needed dementors to show him images of James in pain, James dying, James betrayed by his best friend's stupid plan, James' son an orphan. He could see James cold, accusing stare all on his own.

"I'm going to find Remus, then," Dumbledore told McGonagall. "I want to speak to him before anyone else does."

McGonagall nodded crisply. An instant later she was inside the room where Sirius, having given up pretending to rest, sat on the bed.

He had been right, he realized with some surprise. She did look as though she were on the verge of tears. His eyes met hers, but he did not know what to say to her. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it," was no longer appropriate. He had done it. All of it. Killed James. Killed Lily. Orphaned Harry . . . who had somehow grown up to be magnificent.

"Do you need anything?" she asked.

Again, his body seemed to know the appropriate response before his brain did. Or rather, his body knew the inappropriate-but-well-practiced response, which involved equal parts of sarcasm and smarminess.

"A way to turn back time," he informed her simply. "I know that that's illegal and immoral, and rather difficult besides, but you always were the most brilliant professor in the finest school in the world."

She shook her head slightly, some of the hesitance gone from her manner as she sat on the bed beside him. "Didn't the Headmaster tell you to go to sleep?"

"And here I thought you remembered me. I almost never do as I'm told."

"You weren't as bad as all that."

"Don't lie to me. I'm confused enough as it is." He was becoming less so, however. Either the fogginess in his head came and went or he had an easier time with certain people.

"I suppose you would be."

"Thank you."

"Particularly because you're refusing to rest."

"I'm not refusing to rest. I'm refusing to sleep."

"Why is that?"

Sirius sighed. He might as well try the truth. She would understand better than most of the wizarding population, anyway. "I'm not used to sleeping in my human form and Dumbledore bound my power to change."

"He mentioned the Animagus abilities to me." Her beady eyes were now bright more with curiosity than with tears, and they swept speculatively over Sirius. "May I ask when?"

"Midway through fifth year. We started working on it midway through second, James and Peter and me. That was when Remus admitted to being a werewolf, and werewolves aren't a danger to animals."

"How?"

"We had a brilliant Professor of Transfiguration." Sirius half-batted his eyes.

"Obviously. I should have known," she said dryly.

Sirius shrugged. "I can't help it if I attended a glorious educational institution and on a couple of occasions I went to class."

She did not seem to deem that worthy of response, or else she was unable to respond, so Sirius continued. "We stole the books from the restricted section of the library. We bought the things we needed in Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. We taught ourselves. Anything to make Remus feel better. But in the end I was the one it saved." He sighed heavily. "Not that I deserved it. But more so than," he jerked his head at Peter's suspended figure, which he could just see through the open door, "him."

Her hand moved to his shoulder, slowly, so he could see it and would not be startled. "I'm so sorry, Sirius."

The confusion was back. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"We all . . . anyone who knew you knew what you were, and what James meant to you. We knew how the Ministry was going about things, and we still allowed this to happen. I realize what I've done, and if there's ever any way I can help you, I will do it. When Dumbledore returns I'll ask him to lift the spell blocking your transformation. You don't need to go through withdrawal on top of everything else."

"Harry's safe now."

"This isn't about Harry."

He shook his head. "It's all about Harry, all of it. Harry's past and Harry's future. Nothing else matters. Does he know about the prophecy?"

"Dumbledore has forbidden anyone to tell him."

"Is he happy? Even a little bit?"

She smiled, a small smile, but a real one. "He has two best friends he adores. He loves Quidditch."

"I knew that. If anything, he flies better than James did."

"I never would have thought it possible until I saw him. It was his first time on a broom, eleven years old, and he swerved and dove like he owned the whole sky. He wasn't a show-off. He didn't say two words if you didn't push him. Flying was just inside of him. I was getting special permission for him to play as a first year and buying him a broom before the day was over."

"He played as a first year?"

"First in a century."

"And you bought him that broom he lost in the Whomping Willow."

"I couldn't resist." She turned sharply. "Could you?"

"The Firebolt?"

"Yes."

"Guilty as charged. I should have been spoiling him for the twelve years I was gone. It was the least I could do."

"It was exorbitant."

"I like exorbitant things."

He was just starting to relax, slightly, when the door of the outer office opened once more.

Dumbledore had returned with Remus.

**To be continued.**


End file.
